


Le marques d'affection

by Pansexualweirdo



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: A Nod To James Madisons Condition, Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia, Romance, Terminal Illnesses, possible historical inaccuracies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pansexualweirdo/pseuds/Pansexualweirdo
Summary: Excerpt from fic: Quietly, James spoke: “What was it like for you growing up here?” and Thomas indulged him, sharing one of his favorite childhood stories with him. He took note whenever Madison tried to stifle his laughter or sent him incredulous looks, his expression saying ‘You’re absurd’. But then, amidst a more intense laughing burst, Madison began coughing, and Jefferson’s blood ran cold.This is my first tribute to this fandom, so if you find anything funky, please don't hesitate to tell me! Happy reading!
Relationships: Thomas Jefferson & James Madison, Thomas Jefferson/James Madison
Kudos: 60





	Le marques d'affection

Jefferson and Madison walked side by side along the bustling streets of central Virginia. The sun hung high and bright in the sky and there was not a cloud in sight. The perfect weather for a relaxing stroll out with your close friend and ally, in other words.

Neither of them thought they could get away with this vacation, short as it may be. With Hamilton fighting tooth and nail for a spot in the congress by writing his way into people’s hearts, and Jefferson planning to run for president, well… let’s just say both James and Thomas were frequently busy.

But with the help of Madison’s stubbornness and Jefferson’s charm, they were allowed a few days off, and Thomas knew at once where he wanted to take his friend.

The sound of blunt wood against cobblestone bounced off the walls of the closely-knit buildings and stores around them as Thomas walked with his cane one step ahead of him. This as well as Thomas’s exuberant, unabashed laughter had citizens turning their heads to see what the commotion was all about. Oblivious to any attention he drew to himself, Jefferson simply smiled at other wayfarers as he passed them, and that’s when he could hear a small laugh from his company.

He turned his head to James so quickly that his unruly curls almost slapped him in the face.

“Are you laughing at me, Madison?” he asked lightly, despite already knowing the answer. He watched with an impossible amount of adoration how his friend’s shoulders shook and his grin reached his ears. Adoration which was unbidden and could have them both in danger, but Jefferson figured that no one watched them that could tie two and two together, anyway.

Besides, he liked being open about his feelings, sinful as they may be - if not necessarily _verbally_ so.

“No, of course not. Where’d you get that impression from?” James gasped after his fit of laughter and a smile pulled at Thomas’s lips. He had missed this light banter. Politics don’t leave much room for such frivolous things, so he was grateful to share this time with Madison.

“Oh, I don’t know, you can be plenty transparent sometimes.”

“Says you,” teased James back, knocking their shoulders together playfully as they continued down the bayside, watching ships bob gently in the lapping waves. The breezes of wind that tugged at their clothes and hair smelled of sea salt and Thomas found his heart fluttering in his chest with delight when breathing it in. That scent was pure nostalgia to him, the scent of home. And even better, he got to share it with his closest friend.

“It’s just that-... your ability to dismiss stares and unapologetically be yourself like this is very admirable, Jefferson,” admitted Madison after a brief respite. His face darkened and he bowed his head sheepishly, looking off toward the shoreline. Not wanting to embarrass him any further, Thomas resorted to thanking him instead of humoring him, a tad hot under the collar from the fortuitous praise.

“Why thank you.”

“Certainly.”

A silence followed their dialogue, not unpleasant but undeniably a contrast to earlier. When Madison scanned his surroundings with a tight-lipped half-smile, Jefferson grew antsy, afraid that he was boring the other politician.

“Tell me, my friend, how do you fancy Virginia?”

That attracted Madison’s attention. He turned to look at Thomas, wide-eyed.

“Oh. Oh, it’s lovely, Jefferson.”

 _So are you,_ Thomas bit back, relieved with the response. Quietly, James spoke: “What was it like for you growing up here?” and Thomas indulged him, sharing one of his favorite childhood stories with him. He took note whenever Madison tried to stifle his laughter or sent him incredulous looks, his expression saying ‘You’re absurd’. But then, amidst a more intense laughing burst, Madison began coughing, and Jefferson’s blood ran cold.

Pulling out his signature handkerchief from his jacket pocket and attempting to quell his sounds in the fabric, Madison stumbled and grasped at the air for support, and Thomas came to his aid at once, one arm coming around his back to keep him upright while the other clutched onto his cane, knuckles turning white.

Jefferson was more than used to his friend’s condition. He knew deep down that the man would eventually be okay, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t scary when it happened. And this time was no different, with tears pricking James’s eyes as he valiantly fought his coughing fit.

“Hold onto me, I’ll find you someplace to sit down,” Thomas assured him, handing him his cane to help him walk and laying a hand atop the arm that linked with his. He looked around for any type of seating that wasn’t out in the open, aware of how much Madison hated being stared at.

 _There!_ An opening between two buildings led into an alley a ways ahead, and Jefferson immediately opted for it, supporting his friend as they trudged forward.

Civilians around them murmured and leered at the pair that was breaking the peace midtown, and Jefferson tightened his grip around Madison’s shoulders, muttering at him not to mind them. But his comment had been inessential, for Madison put all his effort into breathing in between his hacking coughs, red-faced and eyes scrunched. Jefferson’s heart plummeted to his feet, and to make matters worse, someone stepped in front of them just then, blocking their way.

“Goodness, is he alright? Shall I call a doctor?” asked a kind young lady with a worried frown on her painted lips, squatting down to try and get in contact with the hunched over politician. Jefferson considered her offer, looking over at his friend. They usually didn’t go to hospice for this, but perhaps Madison needed it this time?

James waved his hand in refusal, and ergo, Thomas had his answer.

“We appreciate your concern, Miss, but he’ll be fine. I need to sit him down now, if you’d be so kind,” he said in a most courteous tone, shooting her a smile of gratitude when she nodded and stepped aside.

He led Madison into the selected alley and noted the warmth seeping into his side from James’s body being pressed against his, noted how strong and sturdy he was despite his convulsion.

At the end of the passage, Madison all but collapsed against the wall, gliding down to the ground, and Thomas just barely peeled off his jacket to lay beneath him so he wouldn’t sit directly on the sett.

“Thomas… Your coat…” managed James between wheezing, and would you believe it? - he worried about his friend’s coat getting dirty instead of focusing on his own health!

Sternly, Jefferson shook his head, kneeling by Madison and grabbing at his hands.

“Don’t fret about that, Dear, just breathe. Stay with me and breathe.”

With a weak nod of his head, James attempted to inhale deeply, only he was rudely interrupted by another coughing fit. Jefferson squeezed his hands, not caring that they were sweaty and trembling. He patted his back and guided him through it with hushed praises and words of reassurance, like “You’ll be okay” and “You’re doing wonderful, just push on a little more for me”.

After a few more painful minutes, Madison’s coughing began to subside, and he laced his fingers together with Jefferson’s, causing his face to flush hot. As much as he hated himself for thinking it, moments like these were the most - for a lack of better words - _intimate_ ones he shared with his friend. He hated to see him ill, of course, but he was flattered James let him take care of him when he had these fits.

When Madison looked up to meet his eyes, Jefferson’s heartstrings tugged mercilessly inside of his chest. He called, softly: “There you are. Are you feeling any better, Cher?”

A small smile flitted across Madison’s face, and he huffed out a weary laugh, his voice coming out scratchy as he asked: “How come you only call me sweet things when I’m sick?”

Jefferson flinched back like he’d been burned, blinking a couple of times as he took in his friend’s query. His heart promptly made its way up to his throat and he struggled to find a decent excuse.

“I-... I don’t- I mean- I _didn’t_ …” he trailed off, his stomach turning itself into knots as he dug himself into a hole.

 _You've made your bed, now lie on it,_ his conscious scolded him, but when Thomas plucked up the courage to look at Madison, he didn’t seem angry, but rather amused, his head slightly on tilt as he awaited his response.

Still, Thomas couldn’t very well confess that he _liked_ calling his friend these endearments. He thought he could get away with using them when James was ill, but clearly, he should have known better. James was too bright to let the wool be pulled over his eyes.

“You didn’t _what?”_ challenged James, far too cocky for someone just having suffered a convulsion, voice rough. Jefferson shook his head fervently, cheeks burning hot.

“I wanted to console you, I- I never meant to make you uncomfortable,” he rambled, grasping at straws to get Madison to believe him. But at this, James merely shrugged, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes hidden by a schooled look of indifference.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” explained Madison matter-of-factly, diffusing some of the other man’s nerves but instead raising confusion.

“Right, okay… Wait, what?”

Suddenly, the air got ten times more charged as Madison scooted inches closer to Jefferson, pushing off the wall and causing their knees to touch, and Thomas let out an unsolicited gasp. Lowering his voice to a soft murmur, James said: “In fact, I don’t mind it at all. I think you should call me sweet things more often.”

Frozen solid, Jefferson gulped, the sound far too loud in the quiet of the alley, bouncing off the walls. Part of him wondered if his friend was bluffing, but no sign of humor showed in those dark eyes of his.

For the love of everything holy, why couldn’t Thomas move? He was more than experienced with romance, he had charmed tens of dames and even duchesses, so why was _this_ any different?

But of course it was. This was Thomas’s political ally, his right-hand man and best friend. Someone he cared for and loved very dearly, and someone he could be beheaded for even _looking at_ wrong in public.

“Your thoughts are rather loud, Thomas. Relax, there’s no one else here but you and me,” soothed Madison. This gave Jefferson what he wanted to hear - what he _needed_ to hear - and with newfound gallantry, he moved his hands to cup James’s face in his hands, reveling at how soft and smooth his skin was, warm beneath his fingers. Madison keened ever-so-slightly into the touch, a sight almost too much to bear, yet Thomas couldn’t tear his eyes away from him.

“So what you’re saying is you want me to call you ‘Dear’.”

“Mmm, yes I do,” agreed the other quite enthusiastically, eyes flicking downward to Thomas’s lips, and okay, this was happening.

Slowly brushing a thumb across James’s cheekbone and then over his lower lip, Jefferson leaned just an inch forward, reducing the breadth of space between them. James’s short breaths mingled together with his, and quietly, Thomas asked: “What about ‘Darling’? Or ‘Love’?”

“You can call me anything you’d like, baby,” purred James back, settling his arms around Thomas’s neck and twisting his clever fingers in the damp curls at his nape, and that was the undoing of Thomas Jefferson. Tipping his jaw slightly upward, Thomas connected their lips in an ardent, scorching kiss.

A wondrous warmth blossomed in Jefferson’s chest and spread all the way out to his fingertips as their lips touched, and he pulled James close, arms coming round his waist and holding him tightly as they kissed, kissed as though there wouldn’t be another morning.

They only pulled apart when they heard laughter from the square, reminding them of the world outside of this alley, of the reality in which they still existed. Jefferson pressed their foreheads together, reluctantly whispering: “We should…”

“Yeah,” agreed Madison breathily, taking the other’s hand when offered it and standing up and grabbing Thomas’s coat, brushing the dirt off of it. Before handing it back to him, he lifted it up to his face and buried his nose in the thick, magenta fabric, taking a deep breath. An oxymoron of fondness and lust flared inside of Thomas, but he set all that aside for both of their safety, instead offering Madison a wide, genuine smile.

“Care to join me in Monticello for a drink, mon Chérie?”

Madison had said to call him sweet things after all, and Jefferson would make sure to deliver on that promise. The answering shy smile that graced James’s features made it incredibly difficult for Jefferson to keep his composure, though.

“I thought you would never ask. Let’s go!”


End file.
